Gateway to the Gods
by Vi Co
Summary: Trouble has come to Tortall and in an attempt to save the kingdom, the gateway to the gods has been opened.
1. Four Gates

The last fading bits of sunlight flooded through the long windows lining the room. The white marble tabletops glowed crimson and the yellow robe of the man in the centre of the room shone orange.  
  
"Trace your designs carefully," he said, turning slowly to look at each of the four students standing in the room's corners. "When you have finished your gate, allow a part of your Gift to light it."  
  
For a moment, silence settled over the room. The four blue-robed youth began to trace flowing patterns in gently curving arches. Then the man turned to the girl beside him.  
  
"You shouldn't need the physical symbols, just trace them in your mind. You know what the designs they're tracing should be," he said, lowering his voice so that the others weren't disturbed. "We won't let them proceed unless the patterns are perfect, down to the last curve."  
  
Closing her eyes, she nodded. "So mote it be," she whispered.  
  
Silence again filled the room as the delicate work continued. Every curve had to be precise and their only guides were the patterns they carried in their minds. The work was time consuming and they didn't notice as the minutes ticked slowly by.  
  
Nearly an hour had passed and the final rays of sunlight had faded, leaving the six in complete darkness, when the door silently opened. A bearded man stepped silently around the obstacles to join the man in his vigil at the centre of the room.  
  
"So, Jon, you made it after all," he remarked, turning to face the bearded man.  
  
"I only have a few minutes, but I wanted to see how it was coming along," Jon responded. "How much longer do you think it will be?"  
  
"They are new at this," he answered, motioning to the four in the corners. "And she has four reciprocal gates to construct." This time his gesture was towards the girl standing motionless by his side. "We're expecting at least another hour before we can measure any results."  
  
"You'll send a messenger when it begins to work?" Jon asked eagerly.  
  
"There will be no need for a messenger, you will know." As he spoke, the first gate began to light. Red light flooded the room, fire dancing along the complex pattern.  
  
Both men spun towards that corner of the room. Murmuring softly beneath his breath, Jon stepped respectfully back out of the older man's way.  
  
As the teacher rushed forward, another gate lit turning the light in the room a vibrant purple. "Jon, I need your help. These gates need to be checked for mistakes before her reciprocals start responding."  
  
"What do you want me to do?" he asked simply.  
  
"Call the first two people you see and get the books by the door." His whisper was frantic. He knew that trained help was coming, but they wouldn't be here for the better part of an hour. No one had expected the results would come this quickly.  
  
Jon raced for the door. "Alanna, George, come quickly!" he called down the hall. Two sets of footsteps were heard coming down the hall at a run. A third set was heard only no more than a moment later.  
  
The third gate lit as Jon stepped back into the room. "Take the books and check the gates against what it shows," he whispered hoarsely to Jon. Sweat had beaded on the teacher's forehead.  
  
Two other figures appeared in the doorway the next instant. Following Jon's lead, they took books and faced a gate.  
  
White lights were flashing, tracing sections of design and then fading out again. The third set of footsteps reached the door as the fourth gate flared into full colour.  
  
"Aratus?"  
  
"Numair, quickly, keep her reciprocals from answering until we can check the gates!"  
  
The white light was growing stronger and lingered for a moment after the pattern was traced. "Hurry, she's already got them in place. It's all I can do to keep them from acting." Numair didn't even bother to keep his voice down. The students were so far into the magic they didn't flinch.  
  
"This one's not right. There's a mistake," Alanna called.  
  
"Here too," George shouted.  
  
"And here."  
  
"Force your Gift into the lines and change their position," Aratus answered through gritted teeth. The pattern in front of him was already changing. The yellow of his Gift was bending and replacing the red.  
  
White light blazed, tracing a full gate opposite its mirror. "Numair!" Black light traced the same pattern, blotting out the white.  
  
There was a pause, then a surge of violet and blue light. Answering white light pulled it forward, absorbing it. "I hope you got that right, Alanna."  
  
There was no time for a response as blue and green flared. The answering flash of white was twice as bright as the first had been.  
  
George's gate burst into full brilliance seconds later and through the white light, Aratus yelled, "Let it go, Numair!"  
  
The light inside the room was nearly blinding. Snaking out from the centre of the room were arches and columns of intricate and flowing designs. The gates, once brilliant in colour, were fading to white as the colour was drawn towards the centre.  
  
The youths in blue began to sway under the strain. "Hold them up, don't let them fall!" Aratus cautioned, grasping the lad before him. "Only a little longer."  
  
The girl in the centre had risen with the power and hovered six feet above the ground. The last lines of white were drawing themselves up into a dome above her head.  
  
As the lines met, shadowy forms appeared in the gateways, each bearing something unidentifiable in their arms. They bowed low.  
  
It was impossible to see anything further as the room exploded in a shower of white sparks. The sparks held the form of the gates for the briefest of moments, then cascaded down to the floor. With the sparks dropped the girl.  
  
Numair didn't reach her in time and she crashed to the ground, completely unconscious. The other youths sagged back against the adults holding them, who in turn had to lean against the tables and walls for their own support.  
  
It was a moment before their vision cleared and they could make out the vague outlines of the things in the room. Footsteps were racing down the halls towards them from all directions.  
  
Numair was on his knees beside the girl, checking for signs of life. "Numair, is she." Alanna asked, her voice trailing off.  
  
"She's alive, but only barely," he answered, a tremor in his voice.  
  
The door burst open and four other teachers rushed into the room. Clapping their hands, flame leapt to the candles, filling the room again with light. "Aratus, what happened?" one asked, stepping forward to relieve him of the student in his arms.  
  
"The gates went earlier than we anticipated," Aratus answered.  
  
"Did it work?" inquired a second, lowering Alanna's student gently to the ground.  
  
"Look around," Numair replied, cradling the girl's head gently between his large hands.  
  
Now visible in the light, four shrouded bundles were arranged in the centre of the room, forming a circle around Numair and the girl he held.  
  
Stepping eagerly forward, the third teacher bent to touch the bundles. White light flashed and he jumped back hastily. "Her Gift was stronger than we sensed," Aratus said weakly. "They were called to her and remain tied to her."  
  
"Who are these people?" the fourth questioned sharply. "And why are they here?"  
  
Jon stepped forward out of the corner. The candlelight shone on the royal rest. "Jonathon of Conté, King of Tortall," Aratus said by way of introduction. "The King's Champion, Lady Alanna the Lioness," he continued as Alanna stepped forward, George by her side, "and he husband George Cooper, the Baron of Pirate's Swoop." Gesturing to Numair, he finished, "And Master Numair Salmalín."  
  
"Forgive me for not rising," Numair remarked dryly.  
  
"They were kind enough to assist in the correction of the gates." Aratus strode forward as he spoke, glaring at the teacher before him. "Perhaps you would care to take the students back to their rooms." It was not a question but an order.  
  
Bowing, the four teachers lifted the youths into their arms and carried them out of the room. When they were once again alone, George spoke, "What was that?"  
  
"We were opening the four elemental gateways to the gods," Aratus explained. "It's a highly delicate bit of magic that -"  
  
"That very nearly went wrong," Numair interjected angrily, turning away from the girl.  
  
"Well, yes, but -"  
  
"But nothing. What exactly were you thinking using a student as the centre? Her Gift is almost drained. I almost don't dare feed any of my own into her for fear it'll kill her," he interrupted again. "And I don't suppose that we'll even be able to cross the barrier until she wakes."  
  
Aratus dropped his head. "We had our reasons, Numair. And never before have all four gates produced actual results, you know that as well as I."  
  
Sighing, Numair looked up at the older man. The anger in his eyes cooled a little. "Why were there no others present?"  
  
"They didn't expect results for another hour, at the least," Jonathon answered. "The mages who were to help are at the palace, conferring. It was on my request that the spell was carried out. And it was only after much deliberation that I asked."  
  
"I'm not just going to sit here and wait until she wakes up," Numair said, placing his hands on her. "It could be the better part of a week."  
  
"Be careful," Alanna cautioned, smoothing down the front of her dress. All four, Numair, George, Jonathon, and Alanna, were in eveningwear. They appeared out of place in the simplistic classroom.  
  
Numair didn't answer. George shifted nervously from one leg to the other as five minutes dragged slowly by. As another minute began to tick away, he moved to stand near the pacing Aratus. "Who is she anyway?"  
  
"Anneleise of Meredydd," was his tense answer. 


	2. Four Weapons

"You used her of all people as your centre?" Numair exploded. "What in Mithros's name were you thinking?"  
  
"There are reasons for everything that has happened," Aratus answered tiredly, "if you would calm down for long enough to listen to them."  
  
"Does her father know?" George asked anxiously. Now that he knew that the unconscious girl was of the Hy-Bresain royal line, he joined Aratus in his pacing.  
  
Jonathon nodded. "It was with his permission that we continued with this. In fact, he encouraged it as part of her Tar-fheis. Both he and the flaithainn are on the way from Hy-Bresail now."  
  
Numair opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and turned back to Anneleise.  
  
"As part of her Tar-what?" Alanna questioned.  
  
"Tar-fheis," Jonathon repeated. "It's their version of the Ordeal for royal children. Only it has to be in service of another nation. This was to be hers."  
  
Alanna nodded, a shiver running down her spine as she remembered her own Ordeal. She might have said something else, but Numair spoke, turning to face her, "Alanna, you're better at this than I am. No matter how much of my Gift I feed into her, she doesn't seem to respond."  
  
Alanna reached automatically for the ember stone around her neck as she thought. As her fingers touched the stone, she gasped.  
  
"What is it, Alanna?" George asked instantly, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword. Jon's hand had done the same.  
  
"Blow out the candles," she responded.  
  
"But -"  
  
"Blow out the candles," she ordered, blowing out those nearest to her. The others moved reluctantly to do the same. When the last flicker of bright flame had been extinguished, they could see what the light had been hiding.  
  
The spell was still in place. The ever-changing script and designs were still etched in faint white light. The colour was completely gone from the design, but the intricate patterns wrought in living fire still held the form.  
  
"She still holding it?" someone breathed incredulously.  
  
"Amazing," someone else answered.  
  
"You'll have to take it from her, Numair," Aratus said practically, "otherwise we'll never be able to release it."  
  
Sighing, Numair began mumbling something beneath his breath. As they watched, the white began to darken, first to grey, and then black. The black wavered for a moment as the last of the white faded, then steadied. "So mote it be," Numair said, each word ringing with power. Then the lines vanished, plunging the room into darkness.  
  
With a flick of his wrist, Aratus set the candles back to blazing merrily. Numair again placed his hands on Anneleise, but this time the results were almost instant.  
  
After only a few seconds, her eyes fluttered and opened. They were only open for a second, then she closed them again, reaching a hand up to her head.  
  
"Fylacht fya, Draoia," she murmured, turning her green eyes towards Numair. "Thank you, Master." Her eyes fluttered closed again.  
  
"Wait, open your eyes," Numair called. Her eyes opened again in response. "We'll let you sleep soon, but you've got to break the circle first."  
  
Slipping an arm around her waist, he helped her to her feet. They carefully stepped over to the circle. With Numair's support, Anneleise bent low, lifting each of the four shrouded bundles into her arms.  
  
"Is there anything else, Draoia?" she asked Numair, sinking onto a nearby stool and setting the bundles carefully on the table before her.  
  
Alanna and Jonathon both stepped over, each resting a hand on her shoulder. After a moment, Jonathon asked, "Feeling a little better now?"  
  
She nodded, looking gratefully at them. "Fylacht fya."  
  
"It's we who should be thanking you," Aratus said, motioning to the bundles on the table.  
  
"It was nothing," she answered. Standing, she curtsied low before Jonathon. "King Jonathon of Tortall, I present these to you with the grace of Hy-Bresail." Her voice had a lilting accent, almost musical.  
  
Taking the first bundle, wrapped in crimson silk that was finer than the gown Alanna wore, she said, "Fragarach, the sword of fire." Pulling of the wrapper, she held the sword out to Jonathon simply.  
  
He reached out to take it, but he was unable to hold it for more than the briefest moment. Hastily, but with extreme care, he set it on the floor near his feet  
  
But already she was reaching for the next bundle. The veil on this one was of violet. "Cealodhain," she said, presenting the gently curved bow, "the bow of the air."  
  
Again, Jonathon accepted it, quickly setting it on the ground beside the sword as Anneleise reached for the blue shroud. "Sliabh Cualann, the spear of the waters," she continued.  
  
This too was accepted and quickly abandoned. The final bundle was freed from its green covering. "Gae Bolg, the axe of the earth." This final presentation proceeded much as the first had.  
  
When the four weapons were on the floor by his feet, Jonathon bowed low, "Naithainn Anneleise of Hy-Bresail, I receive these treasures in the name of Tortall and its people and surrender them back into your care."  
  
Again, Anneleise curtsied low. Jonathon continued, slipping uneasily into the Hy-Bresain tongue, "Fylacht fya ap chayd mil'fallcha, Ny-flaithainn." Then he repeated it in his own, "Many thanks and a hundred-thousand welcome, Anneleise."  
  
"Ny-flaithainn?" she whispered, eyes wide.  
  
"Congratulations on completing your Tar-fheis," he said, nodding. "Your parents are on their way here now. Hurry back to your room, I've had palace servants lay out more appropriate garments for you."  
  
Nodding, she broke out in a wide smile. "Thank you, King Jon-"  
  
"Jon's enough, we don't stand much on formalities here, at least when we're not surrounded by diplomats." He grinned back at her. "We'll be waiting at the palace."  
  
"Come on," Alanna said, beckoning to the hall, "I'll help you get ready. Or at least I'll help as best I can," she added with a laugh. 


End file.
